


I Hate Parties (Unless You're At Them)

by jaebirdbluetheawesome (GreyAreaSystem)



Series: Jae Does Maribat [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Maribat - Fandom, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crack, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Like seriously there is some extreme crack, Literally the dumbest thing I could think of, This is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyAreaSystem/pseuds/jaebirdbluetheawesome
Summary: Damian Wayne hated parties.He hated the way his father told him to entertain guests as if he were some dancing monkey.He hated the way the women tried to flirt with him in terrible ways.He hated the people, he hated the activities, he hated the role he played in the whole charade.The reason for the event, the charities, he did not hate.He did not hate doing everything to help people.But he did hate the course of action.And tonight was no different.Until it wasn’t.“I bet you ten bucks you can’t do a backflip in that dress.” A woman behind him mumbled in French.“Oh really, Bourgeois? You really want to go there?” Another woman responded to her in the same language.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Series: Jae Does Maribat [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877605
Comments: 107
Kudos: 1082





	1. Chapter 1

Damian Wayne hated parties. 

He hated the way his father told him to entertain guests as if he were some dancing monkey. 

He hated the way the women tried to flirt with him in terrible ways. 

He hated the people, he hated the activities, he hated the role he played in the whole charade. 

The reason for the event, the charities, he did not hate. 

He did not hate doing everything to help people. 

But he did hate the course of action. 

And tonight was no different. 

Until it wasn’t. 

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t do a backflip in that dress.” A woman behind him mumbled in french. 

“Oh really, Bourgeois? You _ really  _ want to go there?” Another woman responded to her in the same language. 

He didn’t want to turn around. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up that there were un-stuffy people here. 

He didn’t want to turn and be disappointed that there might actually be someone who wasn’t a total bore or an airhead in the place. 

“Yup. I’m bored, you’re reckless, let's go. Backflip in a floor length gown. Do it or you're a pussy Dupain-Cheng.” The first girl, Bourgeois, challenged. 

“Oh you are  _ so  _ on.” The second girl, apparently named Dupain-Cheng, accepted. 

He heard heel clicking, and he caved. 

He turned just in time to see a girl with midnight blue hair in a long blue-gray dress that had a deep v and snaked up around her neck throw her arms out and land a backflip. 

In the middle of the dance floor. 

In six inch heels. 

And a floor length gown that had a slit in it. 

She grinned. 

“Pay up, bitch!” She grinned at a blond who must have been Bourgeois, who scowled as she dug into her purse and pulled out a dollar that wasn’t American. 

It was a ten euro dollar. 

The shorter one, Dupain-Cheng, immediately took the ten euro, and put it in the donation pile. 

_ Thanks. _

“What, you couldn’t have bought me ice cream with that, at least?” The tall blond smirked. 

“Yeah, right, as if a Bourgeois couldn’t afford ice cream.” Dupain-Cheng rolled her eyes. 

Huh. 

He wondered if they had come together.

Dupain-Cheng made a face and started to talk in a mocking tone, 

“Y _ es, hi, hello, my father is the mayor of Paris and my mother is the nasty owner of the famous magazine Style Queen could you donate a scoop of Moose Tracks to my tragic cause _ ?”

“Shut the fuck up.” The blond scoffed. “I do not sound like that Dupain-Cheng, you are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

“You know you love me, Chloé.” The shorter girl grinned. 

“Let me see if I can come up with some other challenge for you to stupidly take, see if _this_ one is the one that kills you.” Bourgeois joked, and Dupain-Cheng feigned offense, but had a devilish look in her eyes like she had already accepted. 

He made his presence known at this point. 

“Fifty american dollars says you can’t do one of your well-formed backflips off that banister over there.” He spoke in perfect french, nodding at what he was referring to, and they both paled. 

“You… you saw that?” Dupain-Cheng stuttered.

“It was in the middle of the floor, it was impossible not to notice.”

“No one else did.” Bourgeois pointed out, waving her champagne glass around a bit. 

He wondered how she had got that. 

She was _clearly_ not legal.

“Huh.” He did seem to be the only person paying them any mind. “My offer still stands, though.”

Duapin-Cheng looked at him skeptically for a second before asking, 

“Do you require I wear the heels?”

“No.” He offered instantly, worried she would say no if he made her wear them. 

“Acceptable.” She nodded, and all three teens marched over to the staircase, where she promptly climbed over the side of the banister, and leaned back.

She arched her back, propelling herself only slightly, as she tumbled through the air and landed on her two feet. 

“Good form.” He said again, and handed her the promised fifty. She peered at the donation pile, but it hada crowd. 

“Ugh, I’ll have to go later.” She bit her lip, but he had a feeling she really would. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would keep it. “Maybe you can give me more things to do, and I’ll make one big trip over there later. Do it all in one go.”

“I only have a five and two one’s left.” Chloé shrugged. 

“I got three twenty’s and another fifty, I’m sure we can put them to good use.” He offered. 

He was not having fun. 

No sir he was not. 

He was merely enjoying having a good excuse to get rid of the cash in his wallet, and he could get more later. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where we could get a broom, would you?” Bourgeois asked him. He blinked. 

“Why would you want a broom?”

“You wouldn’t seriously make me do a fucking pole vault, would you?”

“For seven dollars?” She offered. 

Dupain-Cheng eyes the charity bowl. 

“Fine.” She sighed, and they looked at him expectantly. 

“Yeah.” He wondered why he was doing this. 

He never did things like this.

He hated these events. 

He hated being here and he hated talking to people. 

But here was, trying to find a broom to make a girl do a pole vault with it.

What had his life come to.

“I’m pretty sure I can find a broom.”

“Cool.” Bourgeois grinned. Dupain-Cheng, he still didn’t know her whole name, just scowled at the floor. 

He came back to them a few minutes later, with a mop.

“Sorry, this was the best I would do.”

“It’s fine.” Dupain-Cheng sighed as she tossed it between her hands a few times. “Where am I going, Chlo?”

“Over that fountain.” Bourgeois pointed, and Dupain-Cheng made a face 

He had to admit, she was pretty cute. 

Wait. 

No.

No he didn’t. 

He didn’t have to admit to anything. 

What a ridiculous thought. 

She was still a silly woman at the silly Gala same as any other awful socialite. 

She just  _ happened _ to be more entertaining than all the others. 

“Seriously? The fucking fountain?” Duoain-Cheng asked. 

“Yes.” Bourgeois smirked. “Or are you too scared of what these stuffy business people think of you to jump over a fountain?”

Damian snorted. 

He completely agreed, these people were awful.

And apparently Dupain-Cheng agreed, because she slammed the mop into the floor before storming over, yet still bare-footed to get a running start. 

She took only five quick steps before slamming the mop into the ground, throwing herself into the air with perfectly bent legs, sailing over the fountain, and sticking the landing. 

Literally nobody noticed. 

They all seemed to be too absorbed in their business talks to acknowledge a teenage girl jumping through the air. 

It was amazing. 

Well, all except for one. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dick asked, looking at them all like they were crazy. 

Which they were. 

“You told me to make friends, _ Richard, _ so here I am.  _ Making friends _ .” Damian said accusingly. 

“What I meant when I-” He cut himself off. “You know what, I don’t even care anymore. Something interesting was bound to happen eventually, I’m just glad you're making friends. You need friends.” He noticed the two girls look at each other confusedly. 

“Wait, Chloé, you know at least minimal english, right?” Dupain-Cheng asked as she walked back over to them. 

_Oh god she has no idea what I just said._

“Wait, I thought  _ you  _ knew good english? Mine is minimally terrible!”

“No! I take Spanish! How do you not know this?” 

They really had no idea what was going on.

“Oh god. No wonder Mother has been exasperated with us this whole trip.”

He tried not to laugh at them, and turned back to his brother. 

“So, are you going to leave us alone, or give us another dare to make Dupain-Cheng do?” Dick blinked at him. 

“Uh, no. If I did, I think Bruce would kill us both.”

“Fine. Be on your way, then.”

He turned back to the two confused girls who were pretending to not have completely lost their chill. 

Despite what he had told Dick, he did not consider them friends. 

But he had said  _ making _ friends. 

He wondered if there would be a day he _ did  _ consider them friends. 

* * *

Two hours, all of their money, and many dares later, they all three sat on a balcony, looking out at the dark patio below them. 

“So, Dupain-Cheng, never caught your first name.” He asked, leaning against a railing. She tipped her head back, and stared up at the sky. 

“Marinette.”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Cute name.

Shut up.

“And you’re Chloé Bourgeois?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” 

“What about you, random boy we’ve been entertaining all night?” Dupain-Cheng asked. 

“Huh?”

“What’s your name, dumbass.” Bourgeois threw a cracker at him. 

“Oh. Damian.” Was all he offered. 

It was quiet for another second. 

When he had made friends with Jon, he had kidnapped him and then begrudgingly gone on a mission with him, to them emotionally bond over a split granola bar. 

This was not the same thing. 

Not even slightly. 

“So, Bourgeois, how did you end up here?” He tried. He really did. 

“My mom was invited, she brought me along. Figured it would do some good for me, or something. Teach me manners.”

“A lot of good that did.” Dupain-Cheng snorted. “We have been sooo well behaved tonight.”

“So if you came as a plus one, how did Dupain-Cheng here end up with you?”

“She was invited herself.”

“You were?”

“I was.” She nodded in agreement. 

“How did you end up with one?”

“ _ Marinette  _ did not get invited.  _ Charme de Malchance _ got invited.” She popped a square of cheese in her mouth. “Who the hell invented square cheese? This shit is so much funnier in triangles. And easier to put on crackers when in triangles.”

“And you came to their place?” Tim had been looking into how to find them for a while, they were the one who made the suit he was wearing tonight. He had got to them first, and it pissed him off.

“Oh honey.” Bourgeois rolled her eyes. “Oh dumb darling boy.”

“What? Why would they send in a teenage girl instead of-” He stopped mid sentence. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” The shorter girl smirked at him. 

“Holy shit, you… You made an actual public appearance?”

“Not technically, seeing as no one has really paid me any mind despite the fact I’ve been climbing the goddamn walls around here.” She joked. 

He tried not to laugh. 

It had been pretty comical, how she had done all this shit and no one had noticed. 

If they did, they hadn’t said anything. 

“Wait, Damian what’s your last name?” She narrowed her eyes at him and the charade was up. 

“Wayne.” He shrugged, and she slammed her fist into the balcony floor. 

“ _ That’s  _ why your suit looked so damn familiar.  _ It’s fucking mine _ !” She laughed, and bonked her head on the railing as she threw her head back. “Ow.” She stopped laughing and rubbed her head. “Damn, I’m so stupid for not recognising my own damn work.” She giggled. 

“Only you, Dupain-Cheng.” Bourgeois shook her head, and munched on another cracker. 

“Wait, so how do you two know each other?” He hadn’t gotten past that point. They hadn’t come together, but they knew each other really well. 

“We go to school together.” Dupain-Cheng said through a mouthful of cheese. 

“Seriously?” 

“No kidding.” Bourgeois nodded. “We used to hate each other, when we were younger, but… we got over it.”

“You just… got over it?”

“I was angry and jealous, she was willing to look past it.” She shrugged. 

“Dupain-Cheng, you seriously just ignored the fact she hurt you and became her friend anyway?” The two shared a look, and he didn’t like it. 

They were hiding something. 

“She trusted me.” Bourgeois mumbled, and Dupain-Cheng bit her lip. “She trusted me over anyone else in a desperate time.” Dupain-Cheng seemed to be telling her to watch what she said. 

It confused him, he would investigate them later. 

He would have investigated them anyway. 

To see if they would make suitable friends.

But now that he knew one of them could be used for leverage against Tim, he was certainly keeping her around. 

“So, how long are you in Gotham for?”

“We go back to Paris tomorrow.” Bourgeois said, a little disappointed. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. This summer has been the absolute best, and we have to go back to that hell hole tomorrow.” Dupain-Cheng scowled. 

“Wait, you’ve been here all summer?” And he hadn’t noticed?

“Yup. I hope we come back soon, though, you’re pretty cool.” She gave him a shy smile. “I bet we would hang out again some time.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. 

He had been wondering how to ask her to see each other again, maybe come up with a way to flaunt the fact he knew her to Tim, but she just made it easier by doing it for him. 

“Cool.” She smiled at the floor, and he wondered if she knew. 

If she had figured out she was talking to the son of the man who had thrown this party, the teenager in charge of the entire financial branch of the business of the building she was sitting in. 

If she had figured out he was the billionaires kid. 

If that was the reason she was smiling at the floor. 

Because she thought she had tricked him into thinking he had met someone who didn’t know who he was. 

“I hope I get invited to another of these things at the same time as you. You seem cool.”

Nope. 

She was  _ that _ dumb.

She got up and excused herself, and he gave Bourgeois a look. 

“No, she doesn’t know, no, I won’t tell her, and yes, it will take her stupid ass a really long time of your not blunt about it.” She answered all of his questions in seconds. 

“She… she really doesn’t know?”

“When she met Adrien Agreste she called him a bunch of horrible names for like five minutes before someone pointed out he was a supermodel and then she called him names for being a stuck-up famous teen.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “If she knew who you were, you wouldn’t have lasted five seconds as our friend.”

“Huh. So will that-”

“Now that she knows you have a nice side to you, no, she won’t. But if she knew from the beginning she would have been much meaner.”

“Huh.” He thought about that for a second. She would have made assumptions just like everybody else does. 

But she would have gone in the opposite direction. 

Instead of trying to get something out of him, she would have accused him of something not nice. 

He wasn’t sure if that made him like her more or less. 

Maybe a little bit of both. 

A little more because she wouldn’t have flirted with him if she knew. 

A little less because an assumption is an assumption no matter what it is.

“But then again, she only yelled at him because she thought he was trying to gum her seat in class. Maybe she wouldn't be that mad actually…” He hesitated. 

She was a suitable friend candidate, he decided. 

Bourgeois was slightly acceptable as well. 

He wondered when, if ever, he would see Marinette again. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The next time they met, it was for a Christmas charity gala.

He was bored, talking to Dick about some thing or another, when a flying cheese square hit him in the side of the head. 

I only know one woman who would dare through food at an event like this…

Suddenly, his mood changed. 

He was no longer bored, tired, upset about wanting to go home, or angry.

Suddenly, he was very glad he was there. 

He had never been more happy to be at one of these awful parties. 

“Your aim sucks, Dupain-Cheng.” He said loudly as he picked it up off the floor. 

“I hit you in the temple.” She said somewhere from his right, and he smiled at the floor. “That hardly counts as missing.” He threw the dirty cheese square in the trash, and turned to look at her. 

She was in red this time. 

She was red and sparkly. 

She looked good in red. 

It complimented her hair and eyes well. 

“You look cute.” He noted. She blushed. 

“I mean, you’d look better in something I made, but I guess this is acceptable.” She shrugged. He feigned offense. 

“Cocky much, are we?” He teased. 

“Shut the fuck up.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll go find Chloé and we won't try to make plans with you tomorrow if you keep being such an ass.”

“No, I’m sorry, I apologize. I am very free tomorrow.” 

* * *

“Is this… is this really… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” Jason frowned at the monitors as he watched the gala from a different room, on security detail. “Is the Demon Spawn seriously  _ flirting _ right now?”

“Oh my god I think he is.” Barbara was equally as fascinated. “Who the hell is this chick?”

“They aren’t… argh, my french is only minimal at best and these two are talking like crazy people.” Jason handed the headphones to Babs. 

“Don’t look at me, I took spanish in highschool.”

“Damnit.” He got on the comms. “Dick, you want to tell me what the hell is wrong with Demon Spawn?”

“What do you mean what’s  _ wrong _ with him?”

“Dickie, he’s flirting with someone. And she’s flirting  _ back _ .”

“Oh my god I’m on it.”

Jason watched as he was cut off by a blond chick. 

“Don’t even fucking think about it.” She growled in a thick accent.

“Jason I am afraid of what will happen if I try and move past her.”

“Fine. We’ll figure out who she is on out end and tell you later.”

* * *

“So, how’s your miserable school going? Bourgeois said you hated that place.”

“Ugh, it’s the worst.” She made a sour face. 

“Worst how?”

“There’s this one awful bitch, her name is Lila, and she just kinda… really likes to lie to people to make them like her and I tried to call her out on her shit and she was all like ‘grr, I’m take away your social life’ and I was all like ‘try me, bitch’ and now she’s hell bent on making me miserable and it’s honestly kinda working.” He did not like that. 

He did not like that one bit. 

“And what are you doing about it?”

“Not… too much.” She looked away guiltily.

“Seriously? Someone’s doing that to you and you just do nothing?”

“Well not nothing!” She insisted.

“Oh? How so?”

“Kinda… gathering a little proof some of this shit she says is fake, you know, bust her bitch ass, but I'd rather talk about literally anything else.” 

“Anything else?” He studied the way she made disgusted little faces at the floor, clearly upset by everything. 

“Yeah.” She mumbled. 

“Literally anything else?”

“Yes please.”

“So you would rather talk about Chloé Bourgeois’s hair product than talk about this classmate of yours?” She paused for a second. 

“Is that… is that a joke? Are you making a joke right now?” She gave him a confused look. 

“Maybe?” She snorted at him, and then giggled. 

“You are ridiculous, you know that?” 

“Me? Ridiculous? How so?” He crossed his arms, and pretended to scowl at her, making her giggle even more. 

“Yeah, you.” She held out a hand to him, “Come on Mr. Ridiculous, I like this song. Come dance with me.”

“I do sincerely hope this terrible nickname of yours goes away.” He took her hand, despite making a face at her, well, terrible nickname. 

“Maybe if you do something un-ridiculous, I’ll think about it.” She teased. 

“You are the worst.” He tred. 

“Am I?” She smirked, “Because you seemed to be terribly bored before I showed up, so how, pray tell, am I the worst?” She had him. 

She had him stuck. 

Either tell her why she was ‘the worst’ or flirt his way out of the situation. 

He didn’t think he liked either option. 

But he went with the first.

“You, Dupain-Cheng, are the absolute worst. You know how?”

“How?”

“You managed to just come up in here and absolutely _ruin_ my image.”

“How on earth did I do that?” She looked amused, yet also like she didn’t believe him. 

“You have completely ruined my whole  _ cold and stoic _ thing I had going for me. Completely destroyed it.” He said accusingly as he pulled her closer. She rolled her eyes at him. “You have utterly demolished my dark angry demeanor, and that is not acceptable. People might think I  _ actually _ have feelings now that you’ve done this, and that is absolutely terrible.”

“Oh no, how dare I make you appreciate something.” She deadpanned. “I am truly a horrible person.”

“I’m so glad we’re at an understanding here.” He tried to keep up the  _ I’m mad at you  _ charade, but he failed, and smiled at her. 

“Ha! I knew you liked me.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he went back to scowling at her. 

“I have  _ no _ such feelings for you.” 

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow at him, acting like she knew he didn’t.

He didn’t like that look. 

“That’s funny, because while Chloé was dragging me around making sure I didn’t ‘make an idiot of myself’ her words not mine, I was watching you.” 

“Me?” That threw him off slightly. But only slightly. 

“Yeah, you. And you looked miserable. I am the only person you have enjoyed talking to all night, and I think that means-” She gently bopped a ginger on the edge of his nose. “You like me.”

She had been looking at him. 

Chloé had made her make her way around the room, but the whole time she had been looking for him just as much as he had wished to see her.

“Yeah, you got me.” He found himself saying. “You're the only person here worth any sort of time.”

“Why?” She tilted her head at him, genuinely wondering. “Why does someone who doesn’t seem to like anyone take a sudden interest in me? It’s not the label or the brand, all these people here have something of that sort of their own, so clearly it’s not in the name. So what is it?” He blinked at this. 

She was really making him work for this, huh?

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah, I really want to know. I want to know what it is that you notice.”

“I’ve been interested in you ever since Chloé dared you to do a backflip and you did not hesitate to take her up on it.”

“That’s… it?” She raised an eyebrow like she was eating for more.

“I was interested because I was wondering what on earth kind of a person went to a function such as this… And wasn’t a complete bore.”

“So I was different because I was willing to do something silly and dumb in front of people who’s opinions seem to matter?” She got it. 

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

“No one else here would ever dare do something if they thought other people wouldn’t approve. You did something without worrying about approval.”

“Oh that makes sense.” She mumbled, and he realised she got it. “So, I’m here for the rest of the week. What terribly boring plans might I have to rescue you from?”

“Wait, Christmas is in four days, you live in Paris, and you're here for the whole break? Why?”

“My grandmother was visiting here the same time I was, she’s seeing some old friend, but my parents couldn’t leave the bakery. I don’t really mind, though, it’s fun to do something weird every once in a while.”

“So the idea of tradition means essentially nothing to you?”

“Eh.” She shrugged, not really caring. “I could give it up for just one year. Not  _ that _ important.”

“Hm.” He studied her as he thought for a second. “Come, there is paper that is in desperate need of being turned into airplanes and thrown from the top of the stairs.”

She grabbed his hand as they walked. 

“Desperate need, huh?”

“Whoever throws the farthest wins.”

“Wins what?”

“We’ll find out when we get there.” He bullshitted. She just nodded and followed along.

“Ok.”

* * *

Chloé found them after playing keep away with at least seven Wayne kids. 

“Hey! Chlo! Where did you go?”

“Got caught up.” She shrugged. Damian quickly gave her a grateful look over Marinette’s head when she wasn’t looking, fully aware of what happened. 

“With what?” Marinette was confused. She had not noticed. 

“Oh, people who wanted to know what was up with you.” There was a bit of truth behind it. 

“Oh. Well, what did you tell them?”

“That you were busy.”

“Oh, ok.” She kept folding the paper, and Chloé grabbed a paper of her own. 

They all three made their own type of airplane. 

They lined up at the top of the stairs, sitting on the last step.

“Read?” Chloé asked. 

“Yup.” Marinette readied her hand. 

“Ok, three… two… one…” They threw the paper airplanes, and they soared in three different directions. 

Chloé’s stuck towards the ceiling before nose-diving into the water fountain. 

Marinette’s plane did a bip loop before going into the crowd.

Damian’s went straight into the back of Stephanie’s head. 

That’s what you get for meddling, Brown.

“Oh my god.” Marinette and Chloé dove behind a nearby chair as she turned around to see what happened. Damian just grinned evilly and waved at her. 

“Damian what the fuck.” Marinette laughed as she leaned back onto the floor. 

“What? It’s just Stephanie, she won’t mind.” He shrugged, and Marinette just shook her head at him as she giggled. 

* * *

“Hey, where did Chloé go?” Dupain-Cheng frowned as she looked around the crowded room of people. 

“How should I know?” He shrugged as he tried to think up something un-boring for them to do.

He did know. 

She was yelling at his brothers again. 

“Hm.” She grabbed a ladle out a punch bowl. She smirked, and looked at him. “Ah.” She said.

“What?” He looked at her like she was making no sense. Which was exactly what was happening. She was making no sense. 

“Ah.” She repeated. 

“Have you been corrupted in the mind?” He tilted his head at her. 

Nothing  _ seemed _ to be wrong with her… 

“No, I’m telling you to open your mouth.” She rolled her eyes. Confusedly, he opened his mouth. “Now tip your head back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He did as he was told, and she dumped the punch directly from the bowl to his mouth. 

Confused, he choked, and she laughed as he struggled not to cough with stuff in his mouth. 

“Sorry, I should have given a better warning.” She apologized through a fit of giggles. 

“Yeah, no kidding.” He grumbled, turning to avoid someone who was giving him a strange look. 

“Deeply, truly, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.” She said, putting her fingertips on her chest as if to point to herself. 

He snatched a few snacks, and walked off towards an empty balcony. 

Curious, she followed. 

“You stand on that end.” He pointed, and she stood on one end. 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” He mocked her. She scowled and complied. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Ahhhh.” He teased. She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth. He tossed a cracker at her, and she caught it in her mouth, giggling. 

She cheered at her catch, even though he obviously had impeccable aim. 

But it’s not like she knew that. 

It was cold out, being December in New Jersey, in the dark, but the heat from the party inside spilled out through the window and they were fairly warm. 

“Another one!” She cheered, and he tossed more crackers at her, sometimes throwing them away from her to see if she could move to catch them. 

She caught everything he threw. 

“Alright, I’m out of snacks.” He eventually said, and she pouted. 

“Awe. I was really having fun, too.” They headed back inside for more snacks, and he asked, 

“So, what did you have in mind for tomorrow. You had invited me, uh, earlier, I meant.” 

Wait. 

Was that a stutter?

Was he stuttering?

_ No. _

“Ooh! Ok, so, I was walking by this park the other day, and I saw this pretty flower, right? And I got really inspired to make this dress based on the color and the way they petals all fit together, and so I was thinking, tomorrow, I would do like a bunch of greenhouse tours and see what other inspiring things I would find, to you know, work with.”

“Interesting.” 

“Isn’t it? So I narrowed down my list of places I want to see, but I was thinking maybe you could take a look, see if you knew anything more interesting than what I had.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Chloé mentioned you lived around here. I don’t know when you talked to her, though, why didn’t you tell me?” She frowned at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not.

_ Because Chloé knew it to begin with. _

“Uh, when you went to the bathroom.” He bullshitted. “We didn’t really go over it again.”

“Oh.” She nodded, accepting that answer. “Cool. I just was making sure you didn’t have her number and not mine because I would be extremely disappointed in you for that.” She poked him in the ribs. 

“Disappointed, huh? Is that what the new pickup lines are about these days? Disappointed in me you don’t have my number?” He changed the subject. 

“Oh, psh, like I would ever waste a line on you.” She rolled her eyes,and he hesitated. 

_ What? _

He wasn’t offended by this, or hurt, mind you, he just… was confused. 

Yeah. 

That was it. 

“ _ Waste _ a line-”

“Using a line on you would be a waste of my time because you’ve clearly fallen for me hook  _ line _ and sinker.” She scrunched her nose as she smiled, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth, and looking at him as if daring him to make a move.

“I’ve literally met you twice.”

“And yet you’ve been flirting with me and only me the whole night.” She raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. 

“You are the only tolerable person who is-”

“Only tolerable person.” She cut him off, emphasizing every syllable in a mocking tone. “Really? You expect me to believe that? If you hate everyone else here, but you’re willing to throw food at me for a game, I think I’m a little bit more than just tolerable to you.” 

She had him. 

Again. 

For the  _ second time  _ that night. 

And it was only the second time he had ever seen her. 

“How.” He set the dish he had been holding back on the table.

“How what?” She was taken aback by this. 

“How the hell have you met me twice and have me figured out better than most people who have known me my whole life?”

“You’re eyes.” She shrugged. He scrunched his face at her. “You have very stupid eyes.”

“Stupid?” She took a deep breath. 

“You look at people who come too close, like you want to take their head off, you move when the other people move so you don’t have to stand near them, you read people like your trying to figure out their next move so you don’t have to be scared of it, and on top of that you routinely flick your gaze at the security cameras every thirty seconds like clockwork. But when you look at me, you forget.”

“Huh?” He wondered how she was this smart and yet still so dumb.

“You look at me, and you forget to warn people not to come near you. You forget to watch your back. You forget to check the security cameras, you get way too lost into looking at me.” She grabbed a cup and tried to make herself look busy as she picked at it. 

She could read people. 

And she could do it  _ really well.  _

There was no way she didn’t do that without training. 

He somewhat loudly dropped a hand onto the table. 

She eyed it suspiciously. 

“Dupain-Cheng will you _ please _ go on a date with me already?” He tried not to sound upset at her, he was upset he hadn’t asked her the last time. 

“Really? Even after I just pointed out that-”

“ _ Especially _ since you did that.” He assured her. “Tomorrow, a date. A real one. Not with Chloé coming and going as she pleases, you and me.”

“O- Ok.” She choked, turning redder by the second, and following him back into the crowd. 

* * *

“You have seriously got to be kidding me.” Jason stared at the screen in confusion. 

“What?”

“I mean, my french is extremely fuzzy, but I’m like 90% sure he just got so frustrated with her he asked her on a date.”

“Seriously?” Barbara almost paled. 

The end was nigh. 

Damian Wayne was asking a girl on a date because she flustered him, and the end was nigh. 

The fifth horseman of the apocalypse. 

“And now he’s getting her number!”

“Oh no way!”

“Someone warn Superman, Apocalypse is coming.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Bro. I think it might come true.”

  
  



End file.
